It Takes One to Know One
by xlovexmex
Summary: Dean & Sam are in the midst of a prank war - again. Will their competition to out do the other get out of hand? Will it distract them from doing their job when people start aging & dying mysteriously? R & R!
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I've wanted to re-try writing a Supernatural based story. I wasn't at all happy with how my last one turned out. This just randomly came to me. But, I hope you enjoy this one. For legal purposes I must also state that I do not own any rights to any of these characters or the show itself. So be kind, don't sue – but review!_

**It Takes One to Know One**

"So, what do you think?" Dean asked a somber looking Sam, who was sitting across from him.

Sam barked back at him, "Since when does my opinion matter to you, Dean?"

"Well, I figured, since this has a part in your fate you'd want to have your say."

"Dean, **you're** disgusting." Sam responded in a dry tone.

"Just sayin' man. Yah know what they say about beans. Beans are the magical _fruit_. The more you eat the more you--." He cleared his throat and smiled up at the cute waitress who had just arrived to the table to take their order. He cut his eyes over at his brother, "Last chance."

The Winchester brother's had been at it for the past few hours. Playing pranks for the mere fact of boredom and of course the amusement of getting to each other. It can be awfully boring on the road listening to your brother sing Motorhead or in Dean's case a snoring Sam. Could that boy snore!

Dean had initiated the annual prank-fest by filling the motel's bathroom cabinet with ping pong balls. So, when Sam went to brush his teeth, he was met with about one hundred of them spewing out into his face. He could hear Dean laughing in bed at the sound of the clanking ping pong balls on the title floor. In anger, Sam had run out of the room to confront his brother, but it actually resulted in Sam falling on his ass.

Dean would never forget the look on Sam's face as he stormed out of the bathroom with his hand on his lower back. "Dean! I'm going to kill you."

Dean just yelled back, "Oh, come on, you wuss! It's just a prank."

Sam, to get back at Dean, sprinkled bird seed all over the top of Impala to attract birds. So by morning, Dean would wake up with a huge surprise all over his precious car.

Sam would never forget Dean yelling at him for touching his precious baby. He could distinctly recall hearing him scream his name over an over. While Dean ran back and forth in front of the car screaming threats to his younger brother and the birds that were still crowding around his car.

With a coy smile, "It's just a prank, Dean!"

---

"What can I get you guys?" She said with an innocent smile of pearly white teeth. She would flick her gaze between the two brothers before pausing to gaze down at Sam. She was the typical waitress: early twenties, brown eyes, ponytail up, and her pink Mike's Diner uniform fit snuggly against her form.

Sam looked up at the waitress, Becky, and politely smiled up at her, "We'll just have the bacon cheeseburgers." Sam handed her his menu before cutting his eyes back over to Dean.

Still smiling up at Becky, like a gleeful child, Dean handed her the menu. He watched her turn around and head towards the kitchen. "Hmm."

"So, let's call a truce," came Sam's offering voice as he tried to snap Dean's attention back to him instead of the Becky's rear.

Dean slowly turned around, "Oh, hell no, you touched the Impala. It's a brand new ball game, Sammy boy. I hope you _liked_ your computer."

"Dean, you know this never ends well." He breathed in a sigh before he continued, "Listen, let's just call it even and move on."

"Is someone a little afraid?" Dean taunted his little brother, "hmm?"

"Dude, it will wash off!"

"You just wait Sam. Yours is commin'."

The waitress Becky returned with their bacon cheeseburgers placing them in front of each of the brothers. She smiled down at Sam adjusting the strand of a chestnut hair behind her ear and out of her face, "Is there anything else I can get you two?"

Dean rolled his eyes at her comment before grabbing the tobasco hot sauce off the table and peppering it all over the inside of the bun.

Sam smiled widely, "Uhm, no thanks, I think we're set."

Becky placed her hands on the tray tightly keeping her gaze tight on Sam, "Uhm, okay, well I'll check on you guys in a few minutes, enjoy."

Dean smashed the top of his bun back down on the burger just as Becky finally left, "So, what's on the list?" He motioned with his head towards the waitress who was behind the counter, "except for making googly eyes at the waitress. Wait! Should I break it to her that you're really not into girls?"

Sam kicked Dean under the table just before Dean took a wide bite of his burger; nearly dropping it back on the plate.

"Hey, don't kill the messenger."

He opened his satchel and pulled out the town's newspaper from yesterday. "Well, I've been sifting through the articles and I found one that seems promising. But I dunno--"

With a large mouthful of cheeseburger Dean directed him to continue, "Lesh ear it."

Sam's eyes stayed on the paper in front of him, "Well – I don't think you're going to like it."

Dean put the burger back down on the plate as he swallowed the last bite on his mouth, "What is it?"

"Well, we're going to have to get on a plane."

Dean shook his head, "That's not even funny."

Sam sighed and adjusted himself in his seat, "It's true man. I think we'd be dealing with a phantom traveler. It says so right here in the paper just not in those _exact_ words." He adjusted the paper and read, "Man disappeared amidst a flight to Philadelphia. So far, the witnesses on the airplane have no recollection of him leaving his seat. Family and plane manifest says he was indeed on that flight. Police are still investigating the man's whereabouts."

"Hell to the no. I'm not getting on another plane. Been there taken care of that." He shook his head in disbelief, "Geez do ghosts get frequent flier miles or something? Here, let me see." Dean grabbed the paper from his brother's hand and began skimming through the articles. "Which one is it?"

Sam leaned back in his seat taking it in, "Sike." Sam couldn't help but snicker at his brother's frustration and fear. This was going to be too easy. "I'm the master of pranks." With a frustrated sigh, "Come on Dean, just give it up."

"Yeah, well, you just wait." Dean took another bite of his cheeseburger, "W-One morning you're gonna wake up and you're gonna be missin—"

A scream from the kitchen bellowed out accompanying the sound of dishes breaking on impact with the floor. Followed by Becky, backing out of the dinner's swinging doors, "Oh-h-h my g-!"

Dean dropped his sandwich on the plate and followed Sam swiftly behind the counter. They stormed through the kitchen's door and skidded to a stop. The cook was bent over on the stove his head against the still steaming grill.

"Great, I just lost my appetites," Dean confessed before swallowing his food.


	2. Complications

_**A/N: Thank you so much for your lovely reviews! I'm glad you seemed to enjoy the first installment of the story. I'm really enjoying writing this story in paticular. I always loved the comedic aspect of the show – it gives a great relief when things get darker. Be kind and review!**_

* * *

**Complications**

Sam was standing in front of Officer Pike, an older man in his fifties, who was just finishing the last round of questions. "I think I've got everything I need here, Mr. Rudd." He extended his hand towards Sam, who took it quickly for a firm handshake, "Thank you for your time."

"Any idea as to what happened, Officer?"

"It's hard to say for sure, the coroner will provide better results within the week. It seems to me that the cook suffered a severe heart attack." The officer grinned, "I hope this didn't put a damper on your vacation."

"No, no, that's okay, it's just awful about the cook. Thank you officer," Sam smiled graciously at the man before they both parted ways.

Sam rejoined Dean by the Impala, he followed Dean's gaze across the parking lot to the waitress Becky from the restaurant. She was visibly distraught, understandably, as she ran her fingers through her blonde hair. She looked over at the brother's, catching Dean's gaze, before turning back to the Deputy.

"So, what do you think?" Sam asked hoping to gain his attention.

"What do I think about what, Sammy?" his face and full attention never waivered from the young waitress as he responded. Dean leaned back against the car as he slid his hands into his jean's pockets.

"Uhm, Dean, the dead guy in the kitchen?" Sam replied.

Dean looked over at his brother, "I think someone's been eating a bit too much and his heart finally gave up, poor bastard."

"Becky, the waitress," Sam motioned with his head to Becky from across the lot, "said that there was no sign of physical stress before. She's worked for him for three years. She said that he had just returned from a routine physical a few weeks back and everything checked out. He wasn't over weight either, so, what gives?"

With a sarcastic smile, "Listen, Sam, as much as I would love to stay here and investigate the idea of why a man had a heart attack. There's nothing we can do. He had a heart attack; people have them all the time."

"Did you also happen to notice that the guy was older?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"How old do you think he was?"

"You want me to guess his age?" He shifted off the Impala to look at Sam. When he saw that his brother was actually serious, Dean rolled his eyes and matched it with a loud sigh, "fine I'll say he looked like he was pushing forty."

"Nope, wrong and I thought that, too. According to the reports he was twenty-eight years old. So how does a guy who just got back from a physical, mind you, with a good bill of health look like that?"

"So the guy looks old and had a crappy doctor. I don't see anything we could possibly do."

"Well, I wouldn't be so sure about that." Sam pulled out a napkin from the resturant that had a drawing on it. The drawing consisted of a triangle with two squiggly marks coming out of the top accompanied with a circle in the middle.

Dean took the napkin for a closer look, "Dude, I've seen better drawings than this from a two year old."

Sam ignored his brother's remark and continued with his theory, "This symbol was on the man's shoulder, I saw it before they took his body away."

"Yeah, and?"

"I've seen it before."

"Then do tell, Sherlock, what it means."

"So, now it's worth looking into?" He said with a grin.

"Come on let's go prove me wrong." Dean said with a wave of his hand towards the car.

"I'd love to."

* * *

After several hours of researching the distinctive symbol and its possible meanings at the motel, there was a breakthrough. Sam looked up from his computer over to his brother who was flipping through an old book absent mindedly, "Found it."

Dean slammed the book shut and propped himself up in the chair waiting to hear the news, "What is it?"

"That's odd," Sam continued.

Another few moments of waiting he began to grow even more impatient, "uhh, the suspense is killing me Sammy."

"Well, it says here that it's actually not used in rituals as I first thought. It's actually some sort of symbol for protection."

"Well, good, I'm glad everything hunky dory. You know how I hate to tell you I told you but I told you—"

Sam quickly interrupted him, "But why would he get a tattoo for protection?"

Dean sighed, "When are you going to stop with the questions, Nancy Drew? Perhaps he went in, saw it, thought it was cool and just got it. I mean, just imagine those people who do not understand Chinese or Arabic. They get symbols on their bodies thinking it means one thing but turns out it means something incredibly different. Or perhaps he had a fear of clowns and wanted to protect himself." He paused briefly and considered, "Ooh, maybe you should look into that."

Sam cut his eyes at his brother before continuing, "I don't know something about this just seems off." He shook his head and ran his long slender fingers through his brown hair, a common action when he was thinking.

"But without something to go on we're sitting at a stand still."

"I don't know, maybe we should go talk to that waitress from the restaurant ourselves?"

"You didn't happen to catch her last name, did you?"

"We'll start at the diner and go from there."

"Better get some sleep. We'll get up first thing in the morning." Sam looked over at Dean who was pulling out his Beretta 92 9mm pistol for cleaning. "That means we're going to have to be up pretty early."

"Yeah, yeah, I don't need as much beauty sleep as you do, Sammy."

* * *

**_A/N: Whew, this actually came to me in a day and I was actually going to update last night but.. I fell asleep. Since I'm out of school for the summer, I can hopefully update this story more often. Though life, and writers block, can sometimes keep you from doing that. That is if people want me to continue so please review. It'll make me happy!_**

**_Update: 5/25 I decided to take Becky out of this chapter - well the last bit at least. It seemed too forced and I wasn't happy at all with it. By the way, thanks for the reviews, adds, etc. If you haven't yet, please review!!_**


	3. Loose Screws

_**A/N: Here's the next chapter of the story. It's also one of the longest ones. Also, I changed the last bit of the last chapter. I decided against Becky showing up at their door.**_

_**I'm happy to see that so many people have added this to their alert list. Thank you for the reviews, too. They make me ubber happy. So keep them coming if you want me to continue!**_

* * *

_**  
**_

**Loose Screws**

_RING! _

_RING!_

The sound of the phone blaring slowly begin to wake Dean. "Sam," he asked in a groggy state as he shifted under the multi-colored 70s style covers, "get the phone."

_RING!_

_RING!_

"Sammy, get the phone!" He said louder hoping to wake his brother up enough to realize that the phone was ringing.

_RING!_

_RING!_

"Sammy?!" Dean peered over to the other bed seeing why his brother wasn't responding to him. He wasn't in bed, but the bed sheets were wadded up to the side. He looked over to the bathroom, that was closed, the yellow light illuminating the spaces and cracks of the white door. "Of course, why don't I just get it?"

The phone rang once more before Dean reached over and took it off the receiver. He placed it to his ear and groaned into the phone, "hello?"

A voice recording, a rather peppy one at that, came over the phone line, "This is your four am wake up call. Thank you for staying at the Red Roof Motel!"

Dean slammed the phone down on the receiver in frustration, "SAM!" He could faintly hear Sam laughing behind the closed door. "I'm going to kick your ass."

Sam poked his head out of the bathroom door, "Guess you need more beauty sleep than you thought, huh?"

Dean grabbed his pillow off of the bed and gave it a hard throw in an attempt to hit him in the head. But it was too late because Sam had just closed the door. He laid back down into his bed trying to find that nook he'd made during the night that was so comfortable. He drew in a deep breath and slowly closed his eyes. Just when he was about to drift off to sleep the phone rang again. He grunted, "Damn it, Sam! If that's another wake up call you're going to have a hard time sitting for a month with my foot in your ass."

He reached over and grabbed the phone off the receiver, "hello?"

"This is your four am wake up call. Thank you for staying at the Red Roof Motel!"

"Told you it was war," Sam said as he opened the door to peek out once again; before quickly shutting it.

He mumbled under his breath, "such an ass." He looked back at the door in a mocking tone he repeated what Sam had said before, "guess you needed more beauty sleep than you thought."

Sam emerged from the bathroom and headed towards his bed. "So since you're up early this morning we can get a head start on the day."

"Ass," was all that Dean could muster up in response.

* * *

They arrived at the fairly vacant diner. The only cars in the parking lot was a beat up blue '97 Ford truck and an orange Chevy '89 probe, "Looks like they're closed."

"It won't hurt to go in and check things around. Plus, when has a building that is closed ever prohibited you in entering?" Sam reached for the handle and began to get out of the passenger side of the car.

They headed to the restaurant and was surprised that the door wasn't locked.

The older waitress, Caroline according to the name tag, greeted them as they entered the diner. Her old hands held on tight to the dishtowel as she wiped down the marble counter in front of her. In her southern accent, "Sorry, boys, we're closed today."

"We were wondering if Becky was in today. We wanted to talk to her for a few minutes," Sam looked around the diner hoping to spot her.

"She took the day off, she was still pretty shook up about what happened yesterday. The cook got--"

"We were here yesterday," Dean cut her off before she could explain.

"Gabe and her were really good friends. Neither one of them had much family, poor girl. It's awful when children grow up without someone, they're forced to grow up so fast."

"She doesn't have any relatives?" Dean asked.

"None, at all, that I'm aware of." She stopped wiping the counter and placed the dishtowel down in front of her, "I think she said her mother and father died in a car wreck when she was younger; back in Michigan."

"Do you think we could get her address?" Sam asked with his genuine smile.

"Nah, I don't want you guys bugging her, she's pretty torn up about this."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Dean cocked a wicked grin.

"What he means is that we wanted to offer our condolences, in person."

"I don't know, boys."

"We understand, Sam, here, is a counselor. A really good one at that, he even wanted to become a Priest. He actually saved a whole convent one time full of nuns." Dean looked over and saw Sam force a smile. "Maybe, he could offer some encouraging words. Right, Sam?"

Through grit teeth and a nod in agreement, "Yeah, we're trained to help in these sort of circumstances."

"Wow, impressive resume." The waitress considered for a moment, "Well, I guess it would be good for her to speak to someone. Maybe help her through this awful experience. Perhaps give her some sort of closure on the situation."

"Yes, ma'am," Dean agreed.

"Alright, but if I hear that you gave her trouble we'll run you out of this town." She warned with a pointed finger, "you hear?"

"Yes, ma'am," they both responded.

After they received the address they headed out of the diner.

Sam looked over at Dean, "Priest?"

"Hey, I knew she wouldn't buy it unless I gave her a story. I couldn't very well have been the priest. I'm too cute for that."

"And me being a Priest who saved a convent full of nuns, is believable?"

"We got the address didn't we?"

* * *

They pulled up in front of a white two-story home with blue shutters. It was a small piece of land located in between two similar houses. A beautiful garden and flower bed could be seen from the sidewalk. A great residence to live in for someone with a family.

"Well, this is cute, Sam."

They stepped out of the Impala and headed towards the door on the front porch. Dean knocked lightly on the door with a closed fist. It didn't take long until they could hear footsteps coming from behind the door.

Becky opened the door in the midst of talking to someone behind her, apparently in another room. It was unable to make out what exactly what she was saying before she arrived, "just go on--" She stopped abruptly when she saw who was at her front door. "Can I help you?"

"Becky, hi, I don't know if you remember us. I'm Sam this is my brother Dean, we were at the diner yesterday, we were hoping that we could ask you a few questions."

"Yes, I remember you, too. What are you reporters?" She began to slowly shut the door, "I'm sorry I'm not going to talk to the--"

"No, we're not, but we wanted to get your account of what happened yesterday," Sam said with great sincerity.

She opened the door up again, "you were there, you should know what happened."

"Yeah, well, we're thinking something _else_ might have happened," Dean saw the look on her face, "other than what we saw yesterday. There might be more to it."

"Like what?" She was clearly skeptical about what the brother's were suggesting.

"That's sort of why we wanted to talk to you," offered Sam.

"What is it that you do then, Sam, is it?"

Sam exchanged a brief glance with Dean before looking back at Becky, "We specialize in this sort of thing."

She thought for a moment before moving to the side to allow them to enter, "Alright."

Once they were inside she ushered them towards the living room. Motioning for them to take a seat on the couch, "When I gave my part of the story they thought I was crazy."

"The police doesn't understand but we're here to help. Could you tell us what you told them?" Sam who took his seat beside Dean who had already made himself comfortable on the couch.

"I told them that Gabe," she paused looking for the right words to describe what she saw, "that he looked different."

"Looked different?" Dean played dumb in order for her to continue with her explanation. He reached forward and snatched a piece of Werther's candy from the brown bowl in the center of the coffee table.

Becky watched as he unwrapped the candy and plopped it in his mouth, "Gabe was perfectly healthy when I left him minutes before. Then when I rounded the corner and entered the kitchen, his face had aged considerably, he was almost unrecognizable."

"You noticed the age thing, too?" Dean muffled as best as he could with the candy in his mouth.

"I told the police officer that and he thought I was crazy. He said that the heat from the burners could've done that."

"What about the tattoo? Do you remember when he got it?" Sam asked after looking over at his brother.

"Tattoo, what tattoo?" She shook her head in confusion. "He didn't have a tattoo."

"The one on his arm, did he not mention or show it to you?" Sam took out the napkin that had the tattoo drawing on it and he handed it over.

"That's impossible, he never wanted a tattoo, you see he was scared of needles. Even when he went to get his physical a few weeks back, he was panicking about getting a shot. He wouldn't have gotten a tattoo. He was such a baby about the whole thing."

Sam nodded to signal that he understood. It was followed closely with a moment of silence. Not sure where to go from there or what else should be said.

"Where's my manners? Can I offer you guys something to drink?" She got up on her feet ready to make her way to the kitchen.

"We don't want to keep you from anything," Sam smiled politely, "we're going to try to put the pieces together and see if any of it makes sense. Plus, it seems like you have some other company."

"No, no company, it's just me in this big house."

Sam turned to Dean, "Well, we really should be going anyway. Thanks for your time."

"I hope that helped, let me get you my phone number." She smiled as she headed into the other room to grab a piece of paper, "Are you guys staying in town long?" She returned briefly with her name and number, which she handed to Dean.

"We're probably going to stay in town for a few more days." Sam called after her, "See if we can find something out about your friend Gabe. We're going to be staying at the Red Roof motel downtown if you remember anything."

They both headed towards the door with Sam opening it and leading the way outside.

They lingered on the porch as she followed them outside. Not going any farther than just beyond the threshold of the door.

"Well, if you find out anything please don't hesitate to call me. It's better that I know for sure instead of wondering. I knew something was wrong, there's no way he could--" She shook her head dismissing her thoughts, "Drive safe."

"Thank you, again, for your time," Sam reminded her.

Becky smiled and gave a wave as she waited for them to get in the car.

Dean watched as she turned and headed back inside. "Okay, who the hell was she talking to?"

"I have no idea. Maybe she's at wits end about the whole thing. She just lost her friend."

"I don't know she's," he trailed off not sure the right word to categorize her with.

Sam finished the sentence for him, "People grieve differently, Dean."

"Yeah, I've seen grieving, that's not grieving." He turned the ignition, put it into gear, and pulled out on to the street. "Seems like she has a few screws loose."

"Why because she wasn't exactly foaming at the mouth when she saw you?"

"Well, there's that."

* * *

_**A/N: So I wonder what Becky is hiding?! Dun, dun, dun! **_


	4. Very Stealthy, Dean

_**A/N: I'm really enjoying the story thus far. I'm also glad to see that you guys like it. Thanks for the reviews again, you guys are the greatest! A shout out even to those who've put this on their alert/favorites and haven't reviewed, you make my day, too! But there's no need to be shy.**_

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**Very Stealthy, Dean**

"So we're back at square one," Dean looked back at his brother who was poking around in the small fridge, "I hate square one." He took a seat at the small circular table in front of the window of their motel room. He carefully un-wrapped his cheeseburger that was loaded with everything: pickles, onions, bacon, lettuce, tomatoes, and some other unrecognizable condiments. With one large bite, that was nearly half the sandwich, he began to devour it.

Sam never knew how his brother could stuff his face full of that greasy processed mess and not feel the repercussions. He always thought to himself, though, that Dean would eventually have a heart attack if he didn't slow down. Sam finally decided on his meal. He grabbed a can of Dr. Pepper and his turkey and cheese sandwich, on white, from two days ago.

With his mouth full Dean began to speak again, "I think we should look into Becky, snoop around and see if we can dig up some skeletons, so to speak."

"What do you propose we do, she's just recently moved here. I doubt there would be much of anything on her, record wise." Sam said as he took his seat across from Dean. He lifted his can of Dr. Pepper to his pink lips to take a long refreshing sip, only to discover that the can was leaking from the side and on to his pants. He quickly propped the can back up on the table and quickly reached over to snatch Dean's napkins. Sam began to blot at the mess that accumulated on his pants.

"You need a bib, too?"

Sam considered what he said and tilted the can examining the sides, after finding the source of the leak he looked over at his brother, "you put a hole in the side of my can?"

"You woke me up at four am this morning. Pay back is a bitch!" Dean said followed by another bite of his messy sandwich.

Sam nodded in agreement as he leaned back in his seat, "yeah it—," the chair snapped in two causing him to plummet backwards onto the floor.

Dean almost choked on his sandwich when he saw Sam's feet fly over his head, "What was that, little brother?" He asked as he peeked under the table at Sam. His laughter turned into a roar when he saw Sam's face turn beat red.

"You took the screws out," Sam stated as he remained on the floor staring up at the corroded ceiling.

Dean licked his finger and marked his victory on the invisible board in front of him, "Yep, I believe that puts me in the lead. Why don't you just cave in?"

"No truce," Sam got up and headed over to the bed to retrieve his duffle bag from the floor. He grabbed a pair of pants and headed into the bathroom.

"Oh, come on, don't pout!" He called after his brother.

The sound of the toilet seat being put down made a small grin creep into the corner of Dean's lips, "Wait for it… wait for it."

Within moments there was a yell that came from behind the bathroom door, "Damn it!"

Dean got up off of his chair and bowed to the invisible audience; he marked another victory in the air. He stated, "Vaseline on the toilet seat."

After thirty minutes Sam reemerged from the bathroom with his brown shaggy hair soaking wet.

"What happened, did you fall in? I was getting a bit worried that you were going to stay in there for the rest of the night."

"No, I had to take a bath because someone got Vaseline on the seat." Sam punched his brother hard in the arm before he made his way over to the bed to take a seat. He looked over at the chair that he had been sitting in the backrest a few feet from the seat itself. He shook his head in mere defeat.

While rubbing his arm to console the pain, "Alright, alright, _anyway,_ I think I should go over and maybe take a look around Becky's house. Yah know, break out a little of my James Bond spy knowledge."

"Do you want me to go?" Sam asked as he got up on his feet.

"Sammy, that's sweet of you to offer."

Sam rolled his eyes before he continued, "We're not really sure that she's involved. If you go by yourself-"

Dean quickly cut him off, "All the more reason to go spy, don't yah think? Besides, I can handle it." He got up from his seat and grabbed his leather jacket popping the collar up. "It'll give you time to do research and maybe even work up a comeback. If I have any problems, sweetie, I'll call." He winked at his brother before exiting the motel room.

* * *

The lights were still on in the house when Dean pulled in to the side street so he could see her from a safe distance. He watched as one by one the lights went out in the house; she was leaving. He opened the glove compartment and withdrew a small pair of black binoculars to get a closer look through the windows. He scanned the windows back and forth, stopping when he spotted her descending the stairs.

Becky made her way into the side room, paused, and made small adjustments to her black cocktail dress. She smiled sweetly and ran her delicate fingers across the strand of pearls adorning her neck. He watched as she grabbed her purse and headed outside, taking a brief look both ways before getting into her '99 red Mustang convertible.

"Going out on the town, huh?" He spoke softly to himself.

Dean put the binoculars back into the compartment and opened the door to get out. With a slight jog he made his way to the back of her house searching for the perfect place to enter. It didn't take him long before he spotted a ladder made out of white lattice that he could use to get to the second story window.

The crescent moon illuminated the bedroom just enough to see the wooden floorboards in the bedroom. He pushed the window up, but with all the pressure he put on the ladder, it began to buckle and shift underneath him.

He made his move just in time as the ladder started to crack; he shimmied his way through the window into the bedroom. In a whisper he spoke to himself, "let's see what you're hiding."

Dean felt around in his pockets for his black mag flashlight. He turned it on and began to scan the room for a good place to start. The bedroom was the typical female room with clothes thrown array, makeup cluttering the vanity, and a full length mirror.

His flashlight stopped on a stack of papers, bills, and other miscellaneous items that were on the top of her bedroom dresser. Rummaging through it at a rapid pace, he tried to keep everything in a reasonable order; to his disappoint he found nothing incriminating.

At the sound of something jumping to the floor from the bed behind him, he turned around and knocked over her jewelry box scattering everything into the floor. He drew his Colt .45 and shined the light down on the moving object only to discover a small tabby cat sitting in the floor in front of him.

"Real stealthy there, Dean," he said as he placed the gun down to the side of the mess. He squatted and began to place the pieces back into her mahogany jewelry box. The cat purred as it rubbed its body against Dean's leg. When he was putting the last piece back into the box he reached over and gave the cat a light pat on the head.

He got back up on his feet and placed the jewelry box back on the dresser where he found it. He leaned over and grabbed his gun from the floor, then, in his peripheral, he spotted something run by the door in the hallway.

Dean slowly rounded the corner, colt aimed ready to fire, after taking a swift look to check to see if anything was there before he proceeded. He made a few strides towards the end of the hallway when he heard something coming up behind him. He turned around only to have his face meet with a metal, in the shape of a lion's head, bookend.

Dean collapsed to the floor landing on his back. His eyes tried to adjust to the pain and the shadowy figure hovering over him. His vision blurred even more as the figure moved to kneel down beside him. When the figure stopped and lowered itself closer to his face he knew just who it was.

It was Becky.

* * *

_**A/N: In the classic words of Scooby Doo, Ruh oh! I hope you enjoyed this. Reviews are wonderful.**_


	5. That's What You Get

**__****A/N: Thank you for the reviews: wcfan, PlatinumRoseLady, & azab! As well as the multiple users that have added me to their alerts/favorites. You may not review, but I still love you, but I'd love you more if you'd review. Okay, okay, enough begging for reviews. Here's the next installment in the story, I hope you like it! As I was writing it out I had planned for it to go one way but it ended up going in a completely different direction. R&R!**

**Update: So apparently, I saw something that needed to be changed.. so therefore I changed it. **

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That's What You Get

"I see you're finally awake," Dean groaned as he tried to prop himself up on his elbows so he could see the source of the calming voice. His eyes adjusted slowly, before they began to scan the room, he finally spotted her across the room. Her back was up against the wall as she looked at Dean then back out the window.

Dean attempted to sit up again, failing miserably as he cursed himself for not being strong enough to stand. His biceps bulging to catch himself before his face hit the floor. His gaze flickered to something that was drawn underneath the coffee table in what looked like black paint. It was the same tattoo that was found on the cook's body just before he died.

Becky turned back around when she heard him roll off the couch. She rushed over to him and grabbed his arm to help guide him back on to the couch, "Here, let me help you back up."

"Leave me alone," he demanded as he gave her a rough push away from him, sending her back into the wooden coffee table. The table shifted with her weight and the added strain of the push.

Dean leaned back against the couch as he ran both palms of his hands over his forehead. Trying to relieve some of the pressure that had built up after the blow she gave him.

Becky sat there for a moment trying to regain her composure, "fine, be that way."

"What did you do to me?" he asked.

"What did I do to you? I was protecting myself." She grabbed the ice pack from the round metal bowl on the other end of the coffee table, and she tossed it to him, "you're lucky I didn't call the police."

Dean caught the ice pack and placed it on his throbbing head as he sat back against the couch, "yeah, well, why didn't you?"

"I don't know, I just thought, that maybe I should give you a chance to explain yourself?"

He looked down in the corner of his eye at his arms, noticing his jacket had been removed along with his gun, "where's my jacket?"

"I took it off so that you could rest more comfortably, until you woke up." She looked over to the chair that the Jacket was hanging on; she stood up to grab it and then tossed it on the chair arm of the couch beside him. "What are you doing here, I thought you were looking into my friend's death? You said you don't think it was natural like they said."

"We wanted to make sure we had all the facts before--," Dean rubbed his eyes and let his palm graze the rest of his face, before he rested his hands on his knees. He wasn't willing to give away too much information, after all she was suspect number one.

"So you decided to spy on me because you considered me a suspect? Is that right?" she ran her fingers through her hair as she sat back down on the coffee table. She looked down at him, "you thought I killed my friend?"

"I need to call my brother," he reached over to grab his cell phone from his leather jacket. He patted down both sides to reveal that his cell phone wasn't there. He closed his eyes tightly as he cursed himself again under his breath, "I'm brilliant."

"Is something wrong?" she asked as her brows furrowed in curiosity.

"Can I use your phone for a minute?"

"Yeah, I'll go get it for you. Only on one condition, though, absolutely no snooping around what so ever." She smiled, "promise to behave?"

"Deal, no snooping, Scout's honor." He held his hand up as if he was about to pledge his allegiance to something he had never been a part of, in his entire life.

"Alright, I'll go get you the phone," she stood and headed into the kitchen to retrieve the cordless phone from the receiver attached to the wall. When she came back into the room Dean was gone from the couch, "fantastic." She heard the click of the gun positioned behind her head just before she was about to turn around to search for him. She slowly raised her hands dropping the phone on the floor.

"Next time you hide someone's gun, you should make sure that it's not so obvious. I could see it from where I was sitting, under the cushions of the chair. Move," he demanded her as he pushed her shoulder with the nozzle of the Colt, to get her to move further into the room.

"I don't have a lot of money, so if that's what you're looking for you've picked the wrong girl. I can give you my wallet and my jewelry, but that's all that I can offer you," She pleaded in between sobs as she tried to keep herself calm and collected.

"I don't want your money, you know that. Now, get on your knees," He ordered pressing the gun farther into her back until she complied. The cold barrel of the Colt was terrifying her so badly that she had begun to hyperventilate.

"Okay, okay," she lowered herself to her knees, closing her eyes tightly preparing herself for what she knew was coming. Her chest was moving heavily up and down at a rapid pace to accommodate the quickened breath. She'd never though the first place she'd get mugged was in her own home.

"Bend over, beside the table," he followed her as he kept his gun level to the back of her head.

"You don't have to do this—," she pleaded hoping they could come to some sort of agreement to all of this madness. She didn't have to die just yet, and she would give one hell of a fight if she needed to.

"Shut up! Just do it."

Becky bent down so she could put her forehead down, allowing it to graze the soft curly fibers of the carpet beneath her as she positioned herself in the fetal position.

"Look under the coffee table and tell me what that is," he demanded of her before she got to comfortable.

Becky lifted her head and tilted it to the side so she could look under the table, "I-I don't know. I don't see anything."

"Look again and tell me what that is."

While Becky was breathing heavily between sobs, about potentially losing her life, all she could manage to get out was, "his tattoo."

"What's your involvement with his death?" He nudged her again, "don't lie. You knew something was after him."

"I don't know what you're talking about! I didn't do anything, I swear!"

"Get up," he demanded again as he grew tired of her trying to get up on her own. He bent down and helped her up by the arm roughly setting her on her feet. He pushed her back into the couch as he reached down for the phone on the floor, gun still aimed and leveled at her face; he punched in the number of his brother's cell phone and waited until it rang.

"Sam, why aren't you answer your damn phone?" He tossed the phone down beside her on the couch. He took a seat in front of her on the coffee table. "Tell me about the symbol."

"What?!" she shook her head in confusion not sure exactly what he was referring to. "You're delusional."

"You better start talking."

"I don't know what that thing means; I told you that before, I've never seen it before you showed it to me."

"Then where did it come from?" he said as he poked her shoulder with the Colt again.

"Are you listening to me, I don't know?!" She shook her head, "I'm renting this house from a friend I work with at the diner, Caroline. This isn't my house, I swear, she told me that I could stay here until I found somewhere else to live. She said no one was using it, that she shouldn't let it go to waste, she told me that her daughter used to live here before she died."

Dean studied her face for a moment before leaning over to retrieve the phone from the couch. He dialed Sam's number again with the same result: no answer. "Damn it, Sam, where are you!?"


	6. Vulnerable

_**A/N: Alright, I changed around the last chapter because there was a big mistake in it. My deepest apologies for that! Thanks for the review azab! I hope that this chapter is received better than the last. This is by far the longest chapter in the story thus far. Read & reviews make me do a happy dance. Surely, you wouldn't deprive me of that! (hehe). **_

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**Vulnerable**

"What do we do now?" She inquired as she sat impatiently; she drummed her fingers on her legs as she rode in the passenger seat of the Chevy Impala. They were headed back to the Red Roof motel to retrieve Sam and potentially work through the research Sam had dug up.

Dean looked down at her pale fingers, the tips were painted a rosy pink, and then changed his gaze back up to her face, "First, we find my brother, then your friend from the diner." He exchanged looks with her before facing the road in front of him. It was still dark outside, roughly eleven thirty the last time he had checked the stereo, so the roads were fairly empty except for the fog.

"I've known her for three years, yeah, given that's not very long; she doesn't seem like the black magic type."

"You can't base a lot of things on the first time you meet someone," came a dry reply from Dean who was just beginning to run his fingers through his short chestnut hair.

She cocked an eyebrow up at his comment, "Well, I think--thought I knew her pretty well." She studied him over for a brief moment, noting his silence, "I've just never thought she'd be into that kind of thing."

Dean didn't respond to her comment as he kept his eyes fixated in front of him, his hands firmly planted on the wheel. Finally he spoke softly, "Listen, we told you that we'd help find out what happened to your friend, Gabe. It might change your perspective on a lot of things."

"What a great job to have, huh?" Becky responded with a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Anyway, I guess she was protecting me because she considered me like her daughter. It was a few months after she died that I showed up in town asking for a job at the diner. We have that common bond of losing someone, I guess as morbid as that sounds, she told me that I even looked like her and that she wanted to help me. So that's why she let me stay in her daughter's home. At first I thought it was a bit odd, but she was so," she paused to search for the right word, "persistent and I didn't have anywhere to go."

Dean glanced at her from the corner of his eye before clearing his throat ready to speak, "I'm sorry to hear about your parents. She told us what happened."

"Yeah, well," she could feel the tears start to well up in her eyes as she swallowed hard to push the lump back down her throat.

"I know what it's like to lose the people closest to you," he said in a low mumble to himself; just as he pulled into the Red Roof motel parking lot. He put the car in park and turned off the ignition, "I've seen some pretty messed up things in my life. The world's not a happy place full of people dancing and singing ABBA songs, thank God." He shook his head as he continued, "things like that, doesn't exist, the only thing that exists is pain, suffering, and secrets."

"Yeah, that's a bleak way of putting it," was all she said in response as she tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. "What is it they say? What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

Dean sat there for a moment soaking up her comment before getting out of the car and slamming the door shut.

She opened the door to the passenger side and stepped out on to the cold grey pavement. Her eyes took in the motel in front of her, which she passed nearly everyday on her way to work; she had never truly noticed it before. She was sure it was the perfect place to harbor some sort of nasty disease.

Becky sighed as she made an adjustment to her blue denim jacket; then followed Dean towards their room door. She stood behind him, turned around, and watched as cars passed by on the highway.

The motel manager walked by with an overly cheerful smile and a matching wave that should only be reserved for mornings, "Good evening, Mr. Young, coming in late are we? How is you brother, James?"

Dean smiled politely but was obviously annoyed by the man's intrusive question, "oh yah know, late night and he's doing just fine, thanks for asking,"

The manager fixated his intense blue eyes on Becky. His eyes studied her body up and down breathing in every curve of her body, and then he turned back to Dean. With a nod and a suggestive wink, "have good one."

They both watched as he headed back to the manager's front desk in the small building located in the middle of the parking lot. The vacancy light in the front of the motel was flashing on and off due to faulty light bulbs. With every step that the man took it would illuminate his bald head.

"James young, huh? Is someone a Styx fan?"

Dean looked back and over his shoulder at Becky as he turned the key to enter the room, "you know your music, impressive. You'd be surprised at how many people don't pick up on the names."

Sam was sound asleep, accompanied by a massive puddle of drool, at the table with his head resting against the pile of books. Dean walked over and gave him a hard slap on the back of his head before sitting down, "Sammy! Wake up!"

Becky crossed the threshold and quietly shut the door behind her. She stood for awhile in the dark dusty room as she wasn't quite sure where the safest place to sit was. She hadn't expected much given the outside condition of the motel. The room was actually tidy except for the batch of clothes that were wadded up on the bed. She had to push them aside before she could take a seat.

"Dean," Sam groaned in response while he sat up and started to rub the area of the brutal slap. He winced when he hit the tender spot, "ow!"

"So how is the research coming along, Sammy? Good, did you find anything?" The sarcastic tone of Dean's voice caused a low grumble from his brother, "I've been calling you for the past hour; here I was worried something had happened to you. Turns out you were actually sleeping."

Sam ignored his brother's comments like he always did when he got his sarcastic smart ass tone, "Did you find anything on, Becky?"

Dean pointed to Becky who had moved to lie back on the bed with her elbows propping her up. She was mesmerized by the television until she felt them staring. She forced a pleasant smile and then averted her attention back to the television.

"Looks like I was a bit more successful than you were. So, you found out," he paused shaking his head in the process as well, "nothing? I'm assuming, judging by the amount of drool that's collected on your chin?"

Sam rubbed his chin clean of the evidence against him, "Well, actually, I did find one thing." Sam pushed the book over to his brother so he could read it himself he pointed to the underlined section that read: Protection Talisman & Symbols.

"The symbol was used by women, in the early 18th century, to ward off evil spirits that would visit their children late at night."

"Wait, like the boogey man?" Becky chimed in as she scooted off the bed to take a closer look at the photo.

"Yeah, well sorta, it's more like what the Egyptians used, yah know, the Eye of Horus? They used it for protection in the afterlife as well as to ward off evil."

"So the question now is: what was this thing after?"

"I guess the only way to find out is to go meet with Caroline," Sam said as he turned to look up at Becky. "Hopefully she'll know."

"She should be at home," piped in Becky.

* * *

They rolled up to Caroline's home on Parker street which was in the middle of town. It was a quaint little house with a white picket fince that wrapped around the front yard. The sidewalk was adorned by daisies that lead to the front door.

"Do you think she's awake?" Sam asked before turning around in his seat to see Becky's reply.

"It looks like someone's awake," Dean noted as he pointed up to the window that just illuminated through the window. The only light in the house that was on was coming from the front room.

"She lives by herself," Becky responded as she began to remove her denim jacket from her arms to accomadate the unusal hot weather.

Dean was the first one out of the car; he lead the way to the front door with Becky on his right side and Sam following behind.

Dean extended his arm out and knocked gently on the white door waiting for a reply. He waited a moment before knocking again.

Becky leaned in towards the door and spoke, "Caroline, it's me Becky, can you open the door I need to talk to you. It's about Gabe."

"No! You get away!" She screamed from behind the door.

"Caroline, it's okay, we know what you've been doing. I have a couple of friends here with me that are offering to help. It's okay, I promise you. You know I wouldn't come to you unless it was important."

"I don't want your help, get out of here!"

Becky shook her head in mere confusion, "I don't know why she's acting like this."

From behind the door they could hear Caroline begin to chant loudly. It stopped abruptly, followed by a loud collapsing thump on the hardwood floor.

"Caroline!?" Becky screamed into the wooden door as she begin to pound her fists.

"Becky," Sam said as he pointed to Becky's upper arm that was gradually developing the intricate protection symbol over her pale skin.

Becky leisurely looked up from the fresh symbol straight into Sam's eyes. She turned back to the door, banging harder knowing what that must mean for her friend, "Caroline!?"

"Stand back," Dean reared back and kicked his foot into the door cracking the paneling. The door swung back into the wall and revealed Caroline slumped over onto the floor.

Dean took off as soon as the door was open. He withdrew his colt and began to search through the nearby rooms to see if there was anyone else in the house.

Sam stayed positioned behind Becky watching her console her dying friend.

Dean returned and joined his brother's side, "There's no one here but it looks like they came in through the back."

Caroline's body was starting to become still as she mustered all the energy she had left to look Becky in the eyes. Becky went to her side to craddle her hand in her own as she began to weep for her fallen friend.

"Aaryan," she whispered with her last breath.

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_**A/N: I'm hoping to have this story done by the end of this month or at least by the first week in July. But, you know how life is. **_


	7. Hurt Like Mine

**_A/N: Sorry for the long delay! I've been busy on vacation and various other personal things. This is the longest chapter in this series so far. I'm sorry if you don't like long chapters. But I honestly didn't know where to break the story for the next chapter. I want to thank (and give cookies to) PlatinumRoseLady, carolinesayer, and x. lizzy .x for the reviews on the last chapter. As always, I'm glad to hear if you like where the story is going or if I've messed up. Okay, maybe not so much the last part (haha). I've been thinking about making a playlist for this story. I'm not sure yet though. Read and review!_**

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**Hurt Like Mine**

Becky sat atop the roof of the motel with a bottle of beer in her left hand; to drown out her misery. She took a swig and put the beer back down by her side as she stared out at the cars passing by the motel. Her chestnut eyes were filled to the brim with tears and with every blink another would run down her rosy cheek.

"I thought I'd find you up here," Sam said as he strode up behind her. He took a seat beside her just as she downed another sip. He took note of the beer and followed her gaze out to the highway, "I'm sorry about your friends."

She quickly wiped her cheeks from the reminiscent tears, "I've had a real lovely week, huh?" She bit her lower lip in frustration and to keep her voice from cracking.

Sam didn't say anything as he looked down at his lap, with his hands planted in his pockets.

Feeling as though she may have hurt his feelings she turned to look at him with sincerity, "thanks." She downed another swig of her beer. Then she tilted the bottle to him to offer him a sip. He shook his head no before his lips turned into a polite, yet a some what awkward smile.

They sat in silence for awhile until she spoke again. "You know the funny thing? I don't even like beer." She chuckled to herself as she reared back and threw the bottle of beer over the edge of the building. The sound of glass breaking on impact echoed as it scattered on the pavement below.

"We're going to find out what's doing this. We _are_ going to stop it."

"Sam, the great optimistic one." She nodded in agreement before she started back, "you know what they told me when," she paused for a moment as she collected herself. "When my parents died, they promised me that the man responsible would be brought to justice. I'd actually have the chance to see him behind bars for what he did."

"They were coming back from a concert late at night when it happened. They told me that he had been drinking and swerving all over the road when he met my parents. My parents swerved to avoid hitting him head on but he ended up clipping the end of their vehicle. Their car flipped several times before it finally stopped. His car was okay enough to make a run for it. He made no effort to help my parents." She cleared her throat, "A few miserable weeks later they found him near a dumpster in an alley, dead of an overdose."

Sam exhaled his breath and sat uncomfortably on the concrete slab as he watched her.

She clenched her fists tightly in her lap, "I hated him so much for doing this to me. He ruined my life."

Sam remained silent and perfectly still as she continued, "I spent nine years in foster care going home to home. No one seemed to want to adopt some one like me because I came with a lot of baggage. So, one day, when my foster parents were away at work and when they thought I was at school, I ran away to make it on my own. Three years ago I came here and fell in love with the town and the people in it. I finally felt like I actually belonged somewhere. And now," she paused again. "I have nothing again. So, Sam, even if you get this thing, it won't change anything it won't bring them back. I'll just have to start over, again."

"I'm sorry, it won't bring them back, no, but at least it'll be over. Revenge doesn't get you anywhere, trust me."

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience," she looked over at his stern composure.

"Yeah, my mother died protecting me when I was six months old. It's a long messed up story."

"And," she hesitated a bit before quietly asking, "what about your father?"

"He died several months ago."

"Did you get the asshole that did it?"

"Yes," was all he could muster to say. There was a moment of silence before he looked over at her. "We're trying to help you, but we need you to be honest with us. Tell us everything or we can't do our job."

"I have been honest," she stood as if she was offended by his comment. She ran her fingers through her hair trying to ease her frustration from his accusation.

"What is Aaryan?" he said sternly, "Caroline said it before she died. What does it mean, Becky?"

"I don't know," Becky shook her head.

"It seemed pretty important to her to tell you before she died." Sam pointed out, "It's not in the books or any of the other research we've done."

"My sister, okay?" She finally said with a sigh as she sat on the ledge of the motel's roof. She looked over the edge of the building as she spoke, "She's not at fault, though. She's in trouble with the law so I couldn't tell anyone that she was here. I have no idea why Caroline would say her name. I've only mentioned her a few times. Plus, Aaryan doesn't even know her and she was only stopping by for some cash. She skipped town that day you visited my house."

"So that's who you were talking to?" Sam asked curiously.

Becky shook her head in confusion, "Talking to?"

"Never mind," Sam dismissed, "was your sister in foster care with you?"

"We were together for a while, then, when we left our foster family we split up. She got into drugs pretty heavily and I haven't seen her much since that day she showed up at my house. You'd think something like losing the people you love would bring us closer, but if anything, it drew us further apart."

"I know what you mean."

* * *

"Wait, she has a sister?! And we're just finding that out now?" Dean sat down beside his brother furious. "That would've been helpful about, oh, a few days ago? We should be talking to this _sister_. I don't like the idea of Becky leaving out details. She does it too damn much."

Sam sat on the top of one of the old wooden picnic tables that sat behind the motel. They had left Becky alone in the room as she attempted to sleep, so they could talk about their plan of action.

"Calm down, geez, the girl was scared that her sister was going to get caught by the police, Dean. Don't tell me you wouldn't do the same for me."

"Well," he hesitated before answering; oh how he hated when Sam proved him wrong. "Look, I see your point. But we're **not** the police and we're trying to help her. Her friend called out her name just when she was about to kick the bucket. Doesn't that sound a little conspicuous to you?"

"She felt her sister was, I don't know, irrelevant I guess? I'm not saying you don't have any merit in what you're saying. I agree completely. But, she said her sister skipped town Dean."

"And you believe her because she's been Miss Truthful the whole entire time?" Dean shook his head, "it won't hurt to do a bit of research. See what she's been charged with that seems so bad she's running away."

"'Seems so bad,' Dean do you not remember Prison? Not the happiest place on earth." He paused for a second, "plus she said her sister was a heavy drug user that's probably the case."

"Well, let's just make sure she's telling us the truth this time." Dean laughed to himself, "When have I ever heard you turn down research, Sammy? It's your first love. "

Sam rolled his eyes, "Point well taken."

Dean leaned up and smacked his brother in the back of the head, "then stop twittling around and let's get to it."

* * *

They headed back to the room and noted Becky still peacefully laying in Dean's bed wrapped up in the old 70s style bed sheets. Dean stopped to stare at her bare leg that had escaped the covers. It wasn't until he heard a loud sigh that she turned over on her side snuggling closer to the pillow laid beside her.

Dean grabbed the chair from the other side of the table and sat beside his brother who was grabbing his laptop from his case. Sam placed it on the table and tried to adjust it so they could both view it. Only it didn't budge, it was as if the bottom was glued to the mahogany table. It wasn't until after Sam lifted the laptop that he noticed a chewed up piece of pink gum planted on the bottom. He looked over at his brother who had just plopped a piece of gum into his mouth while he attended to his shoes.

"Dean, did you use my computer today?"

"No, why do you say that?" He asked as he briefly looked up from his shoe; he tossed it to the side on to the floor.

Matter-of-factly, "Someone, who was chewing gum, left it on the bottom of my computer."

"Don't know who that'd be," he said with a coy smirk.

"Dean, I told you not to mess with my computer."

"Well, Sammy, I told you not to mess with my car," was Dean's counter attack.

With a groan Sam tried his best to remove the gum from the bottom of his laptop. Only to have it stick to his fingers in long messy strings. "Ugh, you're so disgusting."

"Why are you such a girl?"

Sam scoffed before he turned his attention back to the computer. When he rid the laptop and his fingers of the mess he began to type. His first stop was to search on the police database for the state of Michigan; which came with empty results.

"Perhaps she is using a different name?" Dean suggested.

"What are we looking up?" Becky, who was now sitting up on the bed rubbing the back of her head asked. She was wearing one of Dean's plaid shirts as a night gown; buttoned in the middle.

Dean licked his lips before speaking, "Sam, here, was wanting to look up some porn before going to bed, helps him sleep better."

"Oh," then a thought visibly kicked in, "And you? What were you doing?"

"Uhm, I was uh." He struggled to think of anything on the top of his head. A girl in his shirt and not much else had that effect on him.

"Good one, Dean." Sam mumbled under his breath.

Becky's eyes widened, "oh, sorry I asked."

"No, he's joking, Becky." Sam quickly answered her with the first thought that popped in his head, "we were trying to look up possible results for demons that could potentially age the life out of someone."

"Cheerful subject," she replied as she stepped out of Dean's bed. "So do you think that's what happened to Gabe?"

"Well the only mythological thing that I've heard that would result in bodies aging is someone or thing taking souls."

Dean looked over at his brother surprised that he actually had an alibi, "I never thought of that."

"It's just a theory so far."

"Well, when Caroline passed away, she wasn't aged anymore than before," Becky offered.

Dean piped in, "If this is some _thing_ stealing souls I would imagine they would want someone young."

"So what's our next step?" She asked.

"In the morning we start more research," Sam suggested.

"Sounds like a plan." Becky turned to Dean and pointed to his shirt, "I hope you don't mind. I had nothing else to wear and it was crumbled up on the floor."

"No, that's fine." Dean said as he got up and headed to the couch.

"I can take the couch. You were nice enough to offer it to me while you were gone."

Dean shook his head no, "uhm, that's okay. I'll take the couch you've had a pretty rough day."

Becky stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed watching Dean attempt to get comfortable on the dingy brown couch. She turned and headed back to the bed, taking a seat, and then climbing under the covers. Before turning the light off she whispered, "Thanks."


	8. I Know, I Know

**_A/N: Here's the next installment of the story. Once again kudos to azab, x. lizzy .x, and PlatinumRoseLady you're the best! Multiple cookies for you guys for posting a review for the story, I'm glad you are enjoying it! The end is near for the story maybe three or four more chapters to go._**

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**I know, I know**

Becky scrunched her face as she woke up to the sounds of the transfer trucks entering the highway from the motel's lot. The roaring of their engines barreling by seemed as though it was magnified by a thousand. But, no, she didn't have a hangover. She didn't have nearly enough beers for that.

She rolled over on her back and peered down at Dean, who was at the foot of the bed shuffling through his duffle bag. She slowly sat up in the bed and took in a deep breath of air. She ran her fingers over her hair to check out how bad it must've looked.

"Good morning," she announced to Dean. Motioning with her head to the duffle bag he was fixated on filling with dirty laundry, "Going somewhere?"

"Good morning," a voice from the side of the room surprised her; it didn't sound at all like Sam. For some odd reason she hadn't noticed him sitting in the chair beside the window. The voice belonged to a middle aged man, with a brown baseball hat and a handlebar mustache.

Becky quickly grabbed the sheets around her to cover up her chest. She looked at Dean who was amused by her sudden shyness, "That's Becky."

She lifted her hand half-heartedly and gave him a friendly wave and a forced smile, "I didn't know you were having guests over this morning."

"Oh, he's not a guest, he's Bobby," Dean pointed out as he tossed the bag back on the ground.

"And Bobby would be," she waited for him to respond to her question. But when she didn't get a reply fast enough she tried to help him along, "your uncle, your long lost brother from Tennessee?"

"More like a second father to us actually," Sam said as he entered the room rubbing his hair with a white motel towel from the bathroom. He was fresh from the shower with his skin glistening under the cheap lighting and a hint of sunlight that peaked through the window.

Becky sat back on the bed against the headboard watching Sam. His tight muscles adorning his abdomen pulled under his skin as he lifted the shirt over his head and down his arms. Once she saw Bobby staring at her she turned, blushed, and then gazed down towards her dirty finer nails. She cleared her throat, "Maybe, I should get a little less comfortable." She plucked her clothes from last night off the floor, beside the bed, and headed inside the bathroom. She shut the door behind her and began to change.

When Dean briefly looked up to catch her going inside, with the door ajar, he caught a glimpse of her bare back as she slid off his plaid shirt. He tilted his head to the side and craned his neck back to get a better view.

Bobby just shook his head in disappointment at the three in front of him. He whispered under his breath just exactly what he was thinking, "Twenty-something's and their damn hormones."

Sam threw his towel at his brother's head, "Dude? Seriously, could you be anymore of a pervert?"

Dean shot him a belligerent look and then just simply gave him a slight shrug, "probably."

"So are you boys going to tell me what's going on here? And why the two of you are sharing a woman?"

Sam blinked dumbfounded, "sharing? Bobby, that's not what's going on."

"Well, I'm just observing the scene in front of me. It seems that way to me. I might be a bit older than you but I lived through the seventies."

Sam shook his head ready to move on with the topic at hand, "well, uhm, anyway, based on what Dean told you on the phone, what do you believe we're dealing with?"

Becky exited the bathroom fully dressed, then scooted on top of Dean's bed again, curling her feet up beneath her. She clutched one of the pillows tightly against her chest as she readied herself for what Bobby was about to say.

"Well, Sam, you weren't completely off the mark with what you said last night."

Sam glanced over at Dean, and then back at Bobby, "what do you mean?"

Dean reminded him, "Last night, when you were talking about the soul thing?"

"Oh," Sam was generally surprised that his random idea actually had led them to a plausible explanation. When did that ever happen? He quickly dismissed the idea, "I was just throwing ideas around."

Dean rolled his eyes as he sat forward in his chair, "Bobby, do you think there's some sort of connection with what's going on here and what he's suggesting?"

"I'll tell you, don't get your panties in a twist," Bobby said as he laughed and shook his head. "A few years ago, in Kansas, there was a report of at least ten people who died with their skin aged, just like your friend. It wasn't until one of my friend's came across it that they knew exactly what it was. They call them the animus peto."

Sam translated out loud for everyone, "the soul seeker."

"The basic gist of the story was that my friend, Kyle Landon, was investigating the area at the time. He actually saw it, looked like a regular human, that was until he saw it sit on a young boy's chest and attempted to snatch his soul in the back of an old truck. Kyle said the thing was getting desperate because he didn't seem to care who was watching. They don't typically parade it around like that because they can't keep up the façade. It would make it harder for them to survive."

"Did Kyle get it?" Sam inquired.

"No, it took off before he could get a shot off. The boy, when he died, looked like he was at least seventy-two."

"I didn't see anything about these _things_ in the research."

"Well, you wouldn't Sam, because you probably didn't know what you were looking for. It's quite new, the legend hasn't been around for about maybe a hundred years."

"What does the soul do, exactly?" Dean asked while rubbing the temple of his forehead.

"They would use it to rejuvenate their bodies keep them looking ageless. Legends say that they do it every ten years."

"How many do they have to have in order to, rejuvenate themselves fully?" Becky finally spoke from the opposite side of the room, her chin buried in the pillow she was cradling.

"That, I don't know."

Sam looked down at his hands, and then looked back up at Bobby who sat across from him, "What happens if they don't do it in ten years?"

"Well they'd eventually die from starvation and their body couldn't keep up with them. Their skin starts peeling first, then they start to dehydrate, and then ultimately they die."

Dean's eyebrows furrowed as he contemplated, "So this thing was like the fountain of youth?"

"Yeah, it'd keep them the same age."

"Great so we're looking for a demon-like thing, which looks human, but virtually sucks the life out of you?" Dean sighed, "Yeah it shouldn't be hard at all to find out who's doing it. Maybe we could send out questionnaires, or go door-to-door asking if they get the munchies every time they see their neighbor." He groaned, "not hard at all."

"How do we stop it then, Bobby?"

"Not a whole lot can, but my best guess is to go for the head."

Becky's cell phone rang on the bedside table and it caused everyone to turn around to gawk at her, "sorry." She flipped the phone open and saw her sister's name flash across the screen, "excuse me I need to take this call." Becky moved off of the bed and into the bathroom shutting the door behind her.

Once she was gone Bobby spoke softly, "Do you trust her?"

"The verdict is still out. I'm not totally convinced that she's as naive as she'd like us to believe." Dean responded, "But I think Sam here's developed the old googly eyes for her."

With a sharp tongue Sam replied, "I wasn't the one staring at her as she undressed."

Bobby eyed the motel room up and down and saw their reminiscences of the prank war that was currently taking a brief hiatus, "you aren't having that damn prank war again, are you?"

"No," Sam forced a smile.

"Of course not," Dean shook his head over zealously.

"Some how, I just don't believe you two."

Becky sauntered back with her cell phone resting at her side, "I'm sorry to have to cut this short. I'm going to have to go back home; my sister's in trouble again."

"We can take you back," Sam insisted as he got up on his feet and grabbed her coat from the table.

"Alright, but you can't come inside, she'll think something is up," she groaned loudly in aggravation as she headed for the door. With a warm smile she extended her hand to him, "It was nice to meet you Bobby and thank you for your help."

Bobby took her hand and his and gave it a firm squeeze, before he watched her hurry out of the motel room towards the Impala. He yelled after them, "Keep me posted on what's going on, boys."

Sam smiled and nodded reassuringly, "If you find out anything else—."

"Yeah, I know where you'll be, good luck!" Bobby watched as the Impala drove off and headed back into town. He examined his hand closely, turning it over palm up and spotted a coiled piece of dried skin.


	9. You Don't Belong

_**A/N: Another chapter is up! Woo. This chapter gave me a bit of trouble so I hope that it comes out okay. It's been through several different revisions and I'm still not sure if I'm 100% satisfied with it. But, nonetheless, here it is for you lovely readers!**_

_**Special thanks to my faithful reviewers: azab, x. lizzy .x, & PlatinumRoseLady. **_

**_As well as two new reviewers of the last chapter: supernaturalsammy67 & Bailey-x._**

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**You Don't Belong**

Dean, Sam, and Becky eventually made it back to her home located in the middle of town. They were relatively quiet on the way there with only minimal quips on the radio station, this of course, was after Sam hid Dean's tapes of heavy metal underneath his own seat.

The brother's weren't sure what to say or what to offer Becky. The week was just getting worse as it progressed. Not only did she have to worry about something killing the people she was around, but her sister was back in town. Her sister was a rather touché topic to discuss and she was never one to share willingly.

Dean still didn't trust this _mysterious_ sister that she kept quite for days; but he'd never tell Sam that. After all it didn't get him anywhere the last time he expressed his fear for what she was hiding. He had to trust his brother's instincts about this. He was usually right, wasn't he? Either way, he would keep his distance and if needed he would step in. As much as he hated to verbally admit it, Sam was the brain and he was the braun.

Sam was reluctant against going to the house, too. He thought at least they would try to get the sister to trust them so that she could stay safe. But he always knew it was hard to convince someone to trust a couple of strangers. Especially two guys who claim that they're experienced in dealing with the supernatural.

After pulling up to the curb she exited but didn't head to the door immediately. Instead, she stopped at Sam's window and bent down to look at them. With an exasperated sigh, "I'll be out in a few minutes, okay?"

Sam nodded in agreement but before he let her go, he grabbed her hand, "if something happens."

Becky smiled sweetly as her cheeks became flushed; she looked down at his hand clutching her own. Her eyes traveled to the front door and back down to him, "I'll be okay, I'm going to put an end to this now. I'm going to ask her to turn herself in to the police. Maybe, then, we can get back to the investigation when I know she's safe."

Sam released his hold on her arm and watched as she headed up the path. She stepped inside giving the boys one last smile before shutting the door.

Dean studied over his brother's worried expression that was playing across his face. He wasn't that shocked to see that he was concerned about Becky; he was always the sympathetic one.

"Are you worried something is going to happen to her?" Sam didn't look away from the door, so Dean continued, "What happened to giving her sister the benefit of the doubt?"

"No, it's not that. It's just I don't feel right letting her go in by herself. You think her sister will just give up that easily? I don't know if I would."

"Sammy, I think she can take care of her sister's problems by herself, without two guys coming in and poking their noses where they don't belong. If she needs our help pulling her sister's hair I'm sure that she'll call for us."

Sam didn't seem convinced by his brother's words because his eyes remained on the door, "Sammy, yeah, she's smokin' hot in a mini skirt but you don't need to get so attached to her. You don't know anything about her or if any of what she _has_ told us is true. We don't get attached, remember? When this is all over we're leaving; where we're going she can't come with us."

"I wasn't suggesting--," Sam cut himself off as he gazed back at Dean and shook his head, "don't worry, Dean, I'm not getting attached. We're here to help her so, with that, comes a bit of worry with the decisions that she makes. I'm just looking out for her, that's all."

"All I'm saying is that you're watching like a protective boyfriend ready to jump at the first sign of trouble. We've known this girl for, what, a few days and you're already giddy in your pants?"

"Just because I show concern for someone doesn't mean that I want to jump her bones. After all, I wasn't the one checking her out while she changed today."

"So what, you have a bit more self-restraint. Do you want me to give you a gold star?" He rolled his eyes and sighed in exhaustion; he hated fighting with his brother. His brother was too noble for his own good. "I just want you to be careful, that's all."

Sam finally turned his head back to the door, "I know, but you have nothing to worry about." He licked his lips and released a sigh, "I think we can sympathize with what she's going through, and we know what it's like to have an _interesting_ childhood."

"Oh come on it wasn't that bad, other kids have it far worse than we do. You make it sound like we made sweat-shirts for a quarter a day."

Sam cocked an eyebrow up in response, "yeah, right, we had an amazing childhood: bouncing from motel to motel, fighting things that were straight out of Stephen King novels, never knowing where our father was for days on end. Yeah, picture perfect."

Dean nodded in agreement as he looked on to the door, too. He knew his brother was right they had been robbed of their childhood. He mumbled under his breath a simple, "I know."

"At least we had each other," he pointed out, "all she has is a sister who she can't even rely on."

"Sammy?" Dean leaned over and touched his shoulder delicately, "will you hold me and tell me everything will be okay?"

Sam shot him a look that sent his brother sitting back in his seat while he snickered.

A vociferous scream came from inside the hollows of the house that sent them both running towards the front door. Sam was the first to get to the door and he pounded his fists loudly against the wooden door, "Becky!?"

Dean backed up, knowing he'd never get Becky to answer; he was going to have to kick the door in. He yelled cautiously at his brother, "**MOVE**!" before he shoved his foot forward, barely missing Sam, catching it on the door only causing it to splinter. One more kick was all that it needed before it would swing open.

Becky wasn't anywhere near the door as expected; surprisingly the home was empty. There were no sounds coming from any of the rooms nearby or upstairs; it was eerily quiet. Sam took off through the left side of the house before his brother could even turn around to work out a strategy.

"Sam!" Dean said again in a harsh whisper, "Damn it, Sam!" He turned around and started off into the other side of the house with his weapon drawn. "Let's split up, sure, sounds like a fantastic idea."

* * *

Sam crept into the kitchen, checking behind the walls before moving in further. His instincts told him to run, so consequently he left his gun in the back of the Impala. A horrible idea that had him cursing himself for.

He rounded the kitchen table looking frantically around before he spotted Becky lying on the floor - unconscious. She had numerous visible cuts, both deep and shallow, on her body. Her top lip had been split open; she had a gash on her left temple, both of which were ruby red. He ran over and crouched by her side as he whispered her name, "Becky?" He brushed her hair back from her neck as he checked her heart beat. She gasped loudly at the touch of his cold skin against her own. This sent a surprised Sam to fall backwards on to the floor.

Becky rolled over on to her back groaning in pain. With a weak and wavering voice she spoke, "I told you to stay outside, Sam."

"We heard you scream, so we came in, we thought you were in trouble." He scooted closer to her as he helped her sit up, "and obviously we were right. So what happened?"

Becky lifted her fingers up to feel the cut on her forehead; she winced again at the searing pain, "where's Dean?"

"He's looking for you," Sam leaned in closer to get a better look at the wound on her head. His eyes held hers while whispering softly, "I think you're going to be okay. Now, can you tell me what happened?"

Becky shook her head reasoning out what to do next, "I need to find Aaryan before she does something to him. She's lost her mind."

"What happened, Becky?" Sam asked once more.

"I told her that she needed to turn herself in and she went crazy," she shook her head again in disbelief. "She needs help, Sam."

"Let's go find Dean," Sam shifted to his feet. "Do you think you can stand?"

Becky looked up at him before she slipped her small delicate hand into his; he slowly lifted her up and on to her own feet.

* * *

The feel of Dean's telephone vibrating in his pocket sent him searching for it. The I.D. on the phone read Bobby before he snapped it open and placed it to his ear, "Bobby, we're kind of busy right now."

"It's Becky, Dean, she's one of 'em. You be careful until I get there, okay? I'm on my way now and I'll be there soon." He hung up the phone, placed it in his pocket, and rounded the next corner into the large study. Books lined the walls from the ceiling to the floor and expanded all sides of the room.

It wasn't until Dean scanned the last corner that he saw a young blonde with green eyes standing in the door way; she was staring straight at him. He kept his gun aimed at her chest, "Aaryan, right? Where's your sister?"

Oddly enough he didn't think she looked at all like her sister. Her features were much softer like that of an Angel. But her long blue dress that was splattered with drops of blood told him otherwise.

"It was so good of you to make it, Dean." She folded her arms across her chest; she loved a good standoff. "Becky didn't tell me you were this cute. Why don't we put the gun down and get to know each other a little better?"

He leveled the gun at her beautiful pale face just as he demanded, "where's my brother?"

"Oh, don't worry, he'll be here soon, she wanted to be alone with him for a few minutes. She's quite smitten with your brother." She leisurely moved closer to Dean; tilting her head to the right as a smile crept along her face. "But I think you're more my taste."

"Stay still or I'll put a bullet in that pretty little face of yours."

"Oh, come on, there's no reason why we can't play nice."

Mockingly he was surprised by her statement as if there was some actual truth to it, "Well, no, I don't guess there's really no reason why we can't." He paused to act like he was thinking, "well, except for the fact that you kill people."

"If I'm not mistaken, don't you do the same?"

"I help people."

"Right, my mistake," the smile grew wider.

"How long have you and Becky been running this scheme?"

"Not too long, a few years time maybe, back when she had a better pseudo name." She rolled her eyes, "trust me it was her idea to come up with the poor little waitress _Becky_. I'm surprised that her little story has much of an effect on guys anymore; she's been using it for a while." Aaryan walked closer to him, she could see his trigger finger getting tense, "come on, and sit down. If you want, we will wait for them, before we get started."

Dean shot off a bullet which barely grazed her left shoulder, "stay back or the next one won't miss."

"Okay, fine, straight to the point. That's okay, I have never been one for being patient," she continued to advance closer to him before she was stopped abruptly by the bullet that lodged itself in her abdomen. She paused, glanced down at her shirt that was seeping blood, and then looked back up at Dean, "honestly?!"

Aaryan advanced swiftly towards Dean pouncing on him like a cat as she shoved him back into the mahogany desk. His back hit hard enough to send the papers, books, and everything else on the table to the floor. She wrapped her small fingers around his neck increasing her grip on his throat; slowly collapsing the airways off.


End file.
